


Jacket on a Barstool

by crazygirlne



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bar Room Brawl, Bartender AU, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, References to Olicity, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara. He’s known her name, of course; it's posted on the certificate behind the bar: “Sara Lance, professional bartender and mixologist.”</p><p>But until now, she's never invited him to use it. </p><p>Captain Canary Bartender AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captain Cold

**Author's Note:**

> For day 1 of the Captain Canary Hiatus. Additional chapters for each AU day.

“You're going to that dive again, aren't you?”

“Don't start, Mick,” Leonard tells his roommate as he shrugs into his jacket. It's warm enough to keep out the chill of the evening.

“Just don't get why you go back every week. The beer tastes like piss.”

Piss would be a compliment, but that doesn't help his case. “What's it matter, anyway?” he says instead, opening the door of the apartment. “Not like we had plans tonight,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

He walks, the ten minutes in the cold worth avoiding the hassle of traffic and parking, his shoulders hunched forward to block the wind. He unwinds when he gets inside the small building, taking his normal seat at the end of the bar and hanging his jacket on the stool next to him.

He may not go there for the beer, but he doesn't go there for the company, either. Or at least, not the company of other patrons.

He watches the blonde behind the bar as she helps the guy who'd gotten there before him. She takes a second to shoot Leonard a wink, one he knows from his months of coming here isn't meant to be flirtatious, is only meant to let him know she'll be with him in a moment.

The warmth he feels at the action has nothing to do with the fact that he's never seen her do that with any of the other patrons. Nothing at all. Just like his coming here has nothing to do with the beautiful women who gets him his drinks.

She's walking toward him now, pausing only to pour him a beer, which she places on the bar in front of him.

“Evening, Leonard.” She rests her palms on the surface between them as he takes his first sip, grinning when he manages not to make a face. “I don't know how you can stand that crap.”

“Shouldn't you be a little nicer when you talk about your bar's products?” First sip out of the way, he wraps his hands around the mug and fights to keep his eyes on her face instead of the low neckline of her shirt.

She rolls her eyes. “I'm the manager, and Ollie isn't here to try to tell me what not to say. Besides, I know I'm not gonna scare you off that easy.”

She winks at him again as she straightens and walks away to help someone else. He lets his gaze drop to her tight jeans; he may have a lot of self-control when he needs it, but her ass would tempt a saint. And Leonard Snart is no saint.

It's busier in here than usual for a Thursday night. He started coming at this time because of the lack of crowd, because he finds something in her presence that he can't find elsewhere.

She is soothing.

Hell if he knows why; he's seen her take down patrons bigger than he is before he can even consider trying to break up a brawl. She's sarcastic and dry, and their banter keeps him on his toes. She's gorgeous, and when the bantering turns into bickering, and he manages to get her riled up enough that her face is flushed, he has to adjust his jeans. She shouldn't be relaxing in any way.

But the fact remains that she is. He's disappointed tonight, he'll reluctantly admit to himself, when he's almost finished his first drink before she has a chance to come back over to him.

“Can't believe we're this busy in the middle of the week,” she says, turning and leaning against the bar so she can see if anyone approaches. “Usually it's just the club that's this busy. Nobody gives a damn about Legends.”

“Hopefully it'll clear out soon.” He downs the rest of his lukewarm beer with a grimace just before she turns her face toward him. She smirks.

“Now who's trying to drive off the clientele?” She grabs his empty glass. “Behave while I get you a refill.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says, smirking back at her.

“The name is Sara,” she tells him, filling the glass and setting it in front of him before moving away to help the person who has just entered.

Sara. He’s known her name, of course; it's posted on the certificate behind the bar: “Sara Lance, professional bartender and mixologist.”

But until now, she's never invited him to use it.

Mercifully - for him, if not for the establishment’s bottom line - the bar does clear out before long. She stands next to him again, relaxing with her hip against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

“So, Leonard,” she says, “what do you go by, other than ‘Leonard’?” When he looks at her, his dry expression seems to surprise a laugh out of her. “I mean, I can’t quite see you as a ‘Leo.’ Maybe a ‘Len.’ ‘Lenny’?”

He’s glad he’s not trying to take a sip at her last suggestion, or he’d have choked. “Nobody’s allowed to call me that except my sister.”

Sara snorts. “Younger sister, I’m guessing? Sounds like a name I’d come up with.”

“Are you a younger sister, Sara?” He can’t quite mask the fondness in his voice as he thinks of his sister, and he’s pretty sure it carries over into Sara’s name as it rolls off his tongue for the first time.

“Yeah. Does that mean I can call you ‘Lenny’?”

“No.” He takes another swig of beer to hide his smile when she pouts. She brings that out of him; he knows he usually tends toward sarcastic smirks rather than genuine smiles.

Then again, she sees plenty of those smirks, too.

“Fine.” She watches him speculatively, and he tries not to squirm under her gaze. “How about Lieutenant Cold? You know, since you’re always carrying that giant jacket around.”

He frowns at his jacket - it’s a respectable size, thanks - and turns back to her. “Lieutenant? I’m at least a captain.”

Sara laughs. “Okay, then. Captain Cold it is.” She has to go to the register then to close out the tab for a couple of regulars, this old guy who looks like a professor and some kid, probably his student or something. He finishes his drink while she wipes down the bar, then stands and puts on his jacket. He usually lets her know he’s headed out, but someone new comes in just then, and he doesn’t want to wait for her to finish.

It feels… presumptuous. So he walks away, pausing when she calls out to him as he reaches the door.

“See you next Thursday, Captain Cold.”

He turns and nods once, smirking, deciding they need an equally ridiculous nickname for her. “It's a date.”


	2. White Canary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len visits the bar again, and Sara gets her nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late in the day! Mountain Time, here, and the day kinda got away from me. Next chapter will be up Sunday!

“Hey, it’s Captain Cold!” Sara greets him as soon as he walks in the next week. The bar is nearly empty, more like a normal Thursday at Legends. Sara’s wearing her normal shirt, the distractingly low-cut, white shirt with the bar’s name and a silhouette of something he thinks is supposed to be an angel.

He tries to scowl at the nickname as he takes his seat. He’s pretty sure he fails. He hangs his jacket on the stool next to him at the same time she hands him his beer.

“Thanks.” He takes a swig of the drink, and she watches, waiting for him to make a face. “Eugh”--he interrupts himself, trying to blend his involuntary noise of disgust into something that sounded a bit more intentional--“and how was your week?” She snorts, seeming entirely unfooled. 

_ Smooth, Snart.  _

“Week was fine. Completely boring except when it wasn’t.”

He chuckles. “That’s entirely illuminating.”

“I try.” She winks, then sighs, checking to make sure she isn’t needed before looking back at him. “Ollie’s fiancé tried to set me up on a blind date again.”

Leonard blinks. “Your boss’s fiancé is trying to find you a boyfriend?” That means, at least, that she doesn’t have one. “Is that company policy here?”

“No, that’s just Felicity.” Sara’s lips twitch. “She’s a pain in the ass when she tries to get involved with my love life, but she’s one of those people you just can’t hate, no matter how hard you try.”

“Hate people like that.” Len takes another sip.

“I know, right?” The door opens, and Sara taps absently on the bar. “Be right back.”

He watches her, downing more of the piss-poor beer while she serves the new arrivals. She moves fluidly, grabbing everything she needs without having to look at it. The couple is easily impressed, smiling like she’s just performed a magic trick when she flips a couple bottles end-over-end while fixing their drinks, and they shove a few extra dollars in her tip jar.

Sara looks satisfied when she returns to him. When she leans forward, he has to remind himself not to let his eyes drop to the expanse of flesh. Not that her eyes are any less distracting, but at least he doesn’t feel like such a pervert for staring at those. He has to say something before he does something stupid.

“So how’d you get out of the date?” he finds himself asking before he’s decided to continue that conversation.

“Made Oliver give me some extra shifts.” She’s smiling again, and he wishes the bar were a little narrower so he could lean forward and--

No, it’s definitely a good thing the bar is too wide for that.

“And I told her I’m just not feeling the blind date thing right now. I know she means well, but it’s not like I  _ have _ to be with someone. I’ll date if there’s a man or woman I click with, not because I can’t survive being single.” She smirks. “Plus there’s always the one-night stand to get me through.”

Leonard files away this information, trying not to picture Sara stripping off the tight shirt and sliding out of the tight jeans before jumping in the sack with someone. With  _ him _ .

He fails. Spectacularly. It doesn’t help that she’s watching him as if she can read his thoughts, one eyebrow arched neatly. 

“Fascinating,” he finally manages in a dry tone. He takes another sip of beer, ignoring the fact that it’s gone warm, but he can’t quite break eye contact. What is she doing to him?

“So, what about you, Captain Cold?” She says his nickname teasingly. “Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Someone who drags you into blind dates?”

None of those. He’s tired of being the only one with a nickname, though, and he  _ had _ meant to look up possible nicknames for her. He pulls out his phone to run a quick internet search, breaking eye contact in the process. He’s both disappointed and relieved at the lessened tension.

“Oh, I get it. You’re gonna ignore me for your phone. You really are cold.” She’s still teasing, but he makes it a practice not to ignore her, so he responds rather than making her wait.

“If you’re gonna keep calling me that, I need something equally ridiculous to call  _ you _ .” He’s thumbing through nickname generators until he finds a promising one. “The color of your shirt plus the name of your favorite bird.” He frowns, deciding to find a new one; who the hell knows their favorite bird?

“White Canary? I don’t hate it.” Sara’s looking much too pleased when he looks up from his phone. 

“You have a favorite bird?” He raises his eyebrows.

She shrugs. “Why not? No weirder than having a favorite sports team, is it?”

“I’m not really into sports.” At least not the kind with teams. One-on-one was more his style.

“That’s probably why you come here instead of going somewhere with a lot of televisions, huh?” 

“Something like that.” He looks down at his mug before raising his eyes back to hers. “Maybe I just like the beer.”

Sara laughs aloud, and he can’t help but chuckle along. 

He’s still chuckling when he gets home later that night. He doesn’t realize Mick’s waiting for him until he hears his roommate’s voice.

“You’re in a good mood. You get laid?”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “No, Mick. Just spent some time with a White Canary.”

“Huh? Aren’t those them yellow birds?” 

Leonard laughs again, hanging his jacket and going to his room. “Good night, Mick,” he calls in place of an answer, shutting his door behind him.

By the time the next Thursday comes around, he regrets having teased his roommate and friend.


	3. Heat Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick tags along on Len's weekly bar trip.

He should’ve seen it coming, really. Mick had looked unbearably smug that morning, and he’d been nowhere in sight when Leonard was home between work and the bar.

Still, though, Leonard is surprised when he walks into Legends and sees none other than roommate Mick Rory sitting at the bar, nursing a bottled beer. Mick hasn’t noticed him yet, and Leonard briefly considers leaving. Sara catches sight of him, though, her face lighting up and then mellowing into her usual expression, the one that says she’s acting sort of nice because she has to for work, but if she wanted to, she could kill you with her pinky finger.

It’s one of his favorite expressions on her, and he knows he isn’t going anywhere.

Mick looks up when he shuts the door, and he raises his drink in Leonard’s direction. “Snart, there you are. Get over here.”

He looks between where Mick sits at the middle of the bar and the end of the bar where he prefers, then sighs and sits down next to his roommate, slinging his jacket over the stool on the other side. Sara’s there almost immediately, placing a shot glass in front of him instead of his normal beer.

“On the house,” she says. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, looking up at her from under his eyelashes. When she moves away to get him a regular drink, he downs it, relishing the burn of the whiskey.

“Think I figured out why you like this place.” Mick sounds smug, and Leonard looks over at him. He's watching Sara, and Leonard fights an irrational surge of jealousy.

Aside from the fact that she's totally capable of handling any unwanted advances, she isn't _his_ to get jealous about. He appreciates her company, though, and Mick seems to be enjoying interrupting it.

“So,” Sara says, setting a mug down in front of him and nodding to his roommate, “Mick here has been telling me all about you. Says you're a bit of a crook.”

Mick laughs, the asshole.

“I work at a _bank_ ,” Leonard explains, not bothering to keep the exasperation from his voice. “I take people's money, but only as long as they want me to.”

Mick is still laughing. Len waits until Sara glances at the door, then elbows Mick in the ribs. He exaggerates his grunt of pain, but he does stop laughing.

“You work at a bank and you come _here_?" Sara asks. Her eyes are shining at him, but she's keeping her lips screwed into a mock frown.

“That's what I'm always saying.” Mick is enjoying himself far too much.

“Not everyone who works with money _has_ money.” Leonard takes a swig of his drink, and he actually manages to avoid making a face, the liquor having made it easier than usual. He's keeping his eyes trained on the counter, not wanting to look at either of them while they're ganging up on him.

Someone comes in then, and Sara moves to help her. Len looks up, watching her again as she moves with her normal grace, and Mick elbows him, harder than he needs to but not hard enough to really hurt.

“You've got the hots for Blondie.” He says it like it's the best thing ever, an amusing revelation, like he's never seen him interested in someone.

Then again, Leonard realizes, maybe he hasn't. He knows he's heard when a one-night stand is enthusiastically enjoying themselves - the walls of the apartment are pretty thin - but they're always gone by morning. He's never called one up for a second “date,” not in the time he's known Mick, anyway. And since he'd stumbled across Legends, he hasn't really been interested in even a one-night stand.

His eyes are still on Sara when he realizes he hasn't responded to Mick’s statement. “Whatever you say,” he replies blandly, taking another long sip.

“She likes you, too,” Mick says in a low voice, and Leonard almost chokes on his drink.

He gathers his composure and sets the drink down. “What makes you say that?” he asks when he’s steadied his breath. He keeps his eyes on Sara, hoping she doesn’t come back into earshot of this particular conversation.

“Way she talks about you.” Mick shrugs, and Leonard turns toward him as he continues. “Plus, she told me you were cute.”

“Cute?” Leonard blinks. “Cute” is for puppies, isn’t it? People like them fine. It doesn’t mean they’re interested. “And why would she say that?” Maybe some context would help.

Or he could man up and just say something to her, risk the rejection knowing that she wouldn’t let it change whatever it was they had, but Mick’s the one who’s trying to complicate his weekly visits. He can help straighten this out.

“Soon as I sit down, she says, ‘Hey, aren’t you the guy that came in with Leonard that first time? I wouldn’t forget a couple faces that cute.’”

Len narrows his eyes. “She called _you_ cute? Maybe I’ve underestimated her taste.”

Mick snorts and finishes off his beer. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Sara rejoins them, then, and Leonard shifts his attention to her, hoping she didn’t overhear anything. “Want another?” she asks Mick. Leonard kicks at his foot, and Mick glances at him, amused.

“Nah, the boss here wants me gone so he can have you to himself.”

He’s glad he wasn’t drinking, because he really would’ve choked this time.

“Boss?” Sara asks, eyebrows raised.

“It’s a joke,” Leonard explains. “My name’s the one on the rental agreement for our apartment, which makes me the boss in some twisted way.”

Sara smirks at them both, then picks up the cash Mick slides over to her. Mick stands, telling her to keep the change: “You deserve it for putting up with this guy every week.”

“Thanks a lot,” Leonard tells him, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Mick gives him a mock salute. Leonard responds by flipping him off.

“See you at home, roomie,” Mick says, unperturbed.

“Later, Mick,” Leonard answers, shaking his head while the other man leaves. He glances over at his usual stool, cursing when he sees it’s occupied.

Sara notices and grins. She looks around, making sure nobody needs help, then sits on the lower part of the counter, her back toward him.

“He’s an interesting guy,” she says, and Leonard takes a big sip before he responds.

“He is. Did he show off his lighter?”

“Not this time, but he did last time you were both in here.”

“Ah.” Leonard doesn’t want to admit quite how drunk they both were the first time they’d come in, but he suspects Sara could tell, anyway. She has to deal with drunks all the time, after all. He’s surprised she remembers them at all, honestly, though maybe it was Mick’s fault, if he was pulling his pyro routine.

Leonard doesn’t remember much of the night, himself. He was left with a hazy recollection of a golden-haired angel and the shittiest beer he’d ever tasted. Given that Mick hadn’t been sure why Len came back every week, his roommate probably remembered even less.

“I’m not gonna be in next Thursday,” Sara says suddenly, looking over her shoulder at him.

He feels a flicker of hope at her words. She knows he was planning to come back next Thursday. She knows it matters to him whether she’s here or not. Maybe he wasn’t exactly subtle in his interest, but still, he’s both surprised and flattered she’s telling him this. Maybe Mick was right.

“My sister said we hadn’t hung out in forever,” she continues, “and it’s kinda true. I didn’t want her to start bitching about never getting together, and it’s not like I hate her or anything. She’s family, after all.”

“Who says you can’t hate family?” Shit. He hadn’t really meant to say that. Leonard can only handle the concern in her eyes for a couple seconds before he drops his back to the counter. “Let’s just say I’ve got some daddy issues. I was pretty fucked up for a while, but I got past it.” Mostly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks back up at her to see sincerity rather than pity, and something loosens in his chest.

“So,” he says, steering the subject away from himself, “tell me about your sister.”

She watches him for another long second before nodding and telling him all about Laurel Lance.

When he gets home, a few hours later, Mick is watching TV in the cramped living room.

“How was your date?” Mick asks, pausing the show.

Leonard ignores him, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it.

“Sara told me all about your nicknames when I asked about the canary thing.” Mick is grinning; he doesn’t have to look, because he can hear it in his voice. He moves a little faster, trying to get to his room before Mick can say any more. “Goodnight, Captain Cold,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

Shit.


	4. Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barfight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple lines directly from Legends of Tomorrow. As are the characters, obviously, but I figure everybody knows that by now ;) 
> 
> Some violence in this chapter, but I don't think it's graphic. If you disagree, I'm happy to change the tag.
> 
> Also? I may end up needing an epilogue because I’m not quite ready to give these two up yet.

 

The next two weeks drag by. He isn’t sure whether it’s because Mick forced him to admit, at least to himself, that he likes Sara and would like it even more if she felt the same, or whether he’s just gotten _that_ used to seeing her every week.

Without her there at Legends, he has no reason to go on Thursday. He briefly considers going Wednesday instead, but he tells himself that’s crossing boundaries that they haven’t yet reached. He ends up spending the evening in front of the TV, watching some comic book show on Netflix.

Mick - who has only referred to him as “Cold” since he spoke to Sara - takes the opportunity to give him a hard time.

Finally, though, Thursday rolls around again. Len is trying to decide whether to wear his jacket - it’s warmer than usual for this time of year, but he _really_ hates being cold, which is just another level of irony in the nickname Sara chose for him - when his roommate comes up behind him. Leonard freezes when Mick reaches past him to grab his wallet.

“And where are you going?” Leonard asks flatly.

“What, I’m not allowed to join you for a drink anymore?” Len doesn’t have to turn around to hear the smirk in Mick’s voice.

Leonard grabs his jacket, shoving his arms through the sleeves before turning to face Mick. “One drink,” he says firmly. “You stay for one drink, and then you leave.”

Mick looks completely unintimidated, of course. “Yes, boss,” he agrees affably.

Leonard rolls his eyes, pushing past his roommate and out the door, not bothering to make sure he can keep up. Not that he doubts Mick can keep up, but it’s the principle of the thing. When he opens the door to Legends, Sara’s eyes meet his immediately. They flicker over to Mick, and she smirks.

He stalks over to his normal seat, tossing his jacket over the stool next to him more haphazardly than usual. Mick laughs once, then sits down anyway.

“Your ass is on my favorite jacket,” Leonard growls. It’s not that he really minds Mick’s presence, he knows. It’s just that he only sees Sara once a week, and he already has to share her with anyone else who comes into the bar. Still, he knows he’s overreacting, and he tells himself he should probably cool it a little.

It helps when he hears Sara’s laughter. He looks up to see her smiling, carrying one mug of shitty beer and one bottle of slightly-less-shitty beer toward them. “You teased me about having a favorite bird, and you’ve got a favorite _jacket_?”

“It’s not that weird,” he mumbles, but Mick’s chuckling and he doubts she hears. “It keeps me warm,” he says more loudly, “and it _usually_ spares me from anyone sitting next to me.” He takes the beer from Sara with a grateful nod, taking a big sip while it’s cold enough to dull some of the taste. Sara grins and goes to help another customer.

“You know,” says Mick in what he thinks is supposed to be a whisper, “you can probably stop pretending you come here for the beer and order something that’s a little less crappy.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” If he starts ordering something he can get anywhere, it’ll look like he comes here for _her_. He can’t exactly pretend he likes the bar itself, not when he sits in a corner and makes sure nobody sits next to him. Then again, liking the beer is a pretty big stretch, too.

Maybe he’ll just get it over with. Tell her how he feels, or at least talk around how he feels in a way that makes it obvious what he means. He’s already decided she won’t hold it against him if she doesn’t feel the same, so really, he doesn’t have much of an excuse. Especially if Mick’s right and she doesn’t just see him as another customer.

He’s not about to admit, though, how much he’s thought about that over the past two weeks. He’s not about to say anything with Mick here, either.

A loud crash pulls him from his thoughts, and he narrows his eyes at the ruckus happening in the middle of the room. A guy about Mick’s size has tipped a table on its side, knocking a couple chairs over in the process. He’s towering over another man, despite the fact that the other isn’t much smaller. A couple other patrons look like they want to get involved, and Leonard’s not sure whether they’re planning to help one of the men or try to break up the fight.

He looks toward Sara, who’s watching the disturbance. “Break it up, guys,” she calls, setting down the whiskey she’d been about to pour and calmly wiping her hands on a rag. Leonard looks back to see the bigger man lunge forward, grabbing the other man’s shirt.

He sees Mick shift his weight like he’s going to stand, and he puts his arm on his shoulder, shaking his head, then nodding in Sara’s direction. She’s not quite grinning, but it’s a close thing, and her body screams with relaxed excitement. She plants her hands on the lower part of the bar, hoisting herself up so she’s standing on it before stepping over the main part of the bar and hopping down on the other side. She glances over at Leonard, and he raises his eyebrows in silent question.

She does grin this time, for a moment. “I got this,” she says, in a voice that does something sinful to his insides. Before Len can nod his acknowledgement, she turns back to the brewing fight, walking forward and putting one hand firmly on each man’s shoulder. “I said that’s enough,” she says. When they don’t even look at her, she shoves them apart. Hard.

Neither man is expecting it, and it’s enough to break Big Guy’s grip on Other Guy. Big Guy looks Sara up and down before sneering and turning back to his potential opponent. Sara steps neatly between them, and Big Guy stops short, looking down at her incredulously before trying to push her out of the way. Sara lets him, allowing the momentum spin her around, using his own force against him as she turns it into a spinning hook to the face.

Big Guy doesn’t take it well, swinging at her a second later. She dodges it easily, of course, but it’s hard for Len to watch. He grew up protecting his little sister, and even though he knows Sara can handle herself, it’s all he can do to keep his relaxed front in place. It was easier the first time this happened, when he barely knew her, but now?

Other Guy decides to join in on the fight, only he’s going after Sara, not after the guy who started this. Leonard pushes his drink out of the way, but he stays seated, and Mick follows his lead. He can see it in Mick’s posture, though: his roommate would love to join in the fight.

He gets his chance when a third patron chooses to take on Sara. She looks toward them, still pretty in control of the situation, but she seems to have realized its potential to get messy. “Now I could stand for a little help,” she says evenly.

Mick and Leonard immediately join the fray, Mick with a triumphant laugh. Leonard silently shakes his head and puts his fist into Other Guy’s face.

“Don’t kill them,” says Sara. She doesn’t even sound winded. “Maim if you have to, but just try and corral them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leonard answers, moving around the guy while he’s still holding his face and yanking one arm away so he can pull it upward against his back. The guy howls and falls to his knees.

Mick is taking on Big Guy, and Leonard watches as he quickly punches and elbows the guy into submission. By the time Leonard moves his attention to Sara, she’s got her guy pinned to the floor.

“Okay,” Sara says loudly, “here’s the deal. You are going to get out of here, and you’re not gonna come back, or else I’m kicking your asses again and then calling the cops. You got it?” After all three have grunted their agreement, they let them go, one at a time, watching for several seconds to make sure they don’t come back in after they leave. Mick picks up the table, and Leonard gets the chairs. Sara heads back to the bar, going around this time instead of over. When they sit back down, Sara has poured three shots and placed two at Leonard’s and Mick’s spots.

“You earned this,” she says before downing her own. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” says Leonard, following suit.

Mick drinks his, then stands back up. “Said I’d leave after one drink,” he says.

“Mick…” Leonard starts, feeling a little guilty at how much he’s been pushing his friend and roommate away.

“I got to be on the right side of a bar fight,” Mick says, grinning. “I’m ending the night on a high. Thanks, blondie.” He nods to Sara, then heads for the door. “See you at home, Cold.”

So much for feeling guilty. Len and Sara watch the door close behind him, and when Sara looks back at Leonard, she’s smirking.

“Yes,” Leonard says, anticipating her question, “he’s started calling me Cold. Thanks for that.”

“Any time, Captain.” She grins at him. “He seems like a good guy to have around.”

“He’s not always the brightest bulb in the box, but you can trust him to have your back when it really matters.” Leonard takes a sip of his beer, not bothering to hide his face, and Sara takes the mug away from him.

“What do you _really_ want?” she asks, hands on her hips after she dumps the drink.

He considers for a moment. He doesn’t really have a go-to drink. She’s given him an opportunity, though, by acknowledging that he doesn’t come here for the beer. “What I’d _really_ like,” he drawls, speaking slowly because he feels more in control of his words and because it gives him a chance to change his mind, “is to go out on a date. With you.”


	5. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara responds to Leonard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my going out of town ended up getting bumped up, but I didn’t want this to be late. So apologies for any typos I missed; I get words mixed up when I’m in a hurry. Also, yeah, we’ll need another chapter or two instead of just an epilogue. Sincere apologies I didn’t have longer to work on this today, as well as for how short this chapter is. Find me at captainwhogotthecanary.tumblr.com for updates this week and when to expect the next chapter.

_“What I’d really like,” he drawls, speaking slowly because he feels more in control of his words and because it gives him a chance to change his mind, “is to go out on a date. With you.”_

Sara smirks at him, and his heart sinks. She’s gonna turn him down, and that’s fine, that’s not--

“Took you long enough to ask,” she says, tilting her head. “You’ve been coming here for months.”

He’s been as subtle as a brick, hasn’t he?

“Would’ve asked you myself, but I didn’t want to scare you off when you were still pretending you came here for the beer.” Sara winked at him.

How the hell does he respond to that without sounding like the idiot he’d apparently been acting? “Is that a yes, then?” His words are still slow, and he’s watching her from under slightly lowered lids.

Her expression turns mock-serious, and she purses her lips, considering. “I guess I could deal with a date. It’ll keep Felicity off my back for a week or two, anyway.”

Leonard chuckles. “And that _is_ the best thing that could come of this, of course.” He takes a sip of his warm beer without thinking, then makes a face. He watches as Sara whisks away the mug and grabs a new glass.

“Jack and coke?” she asks, making the drink when he nods. She places it in front of him.

“Thanks,” Leonard says. “I think that other stuff was gonna kill me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sara says, looking around before focusing on Leonard with an intensity he’s only seen a few times. “So, where are we going on this date? Because I was thinking it’d be fun to get physical.”

Leonard is proud he doesn’t choke at the hint of innuendo in the last word. “What did you have in mind for physical activities?” he manages after a moment.

She rolls her eyes without any actual annoyance. “I didn’t mean _that_ , Captain Cold. Get your mind out of the gutter.” She grins. “That’ll wait until after the date, if it goes well enough.”

Shit. He shifts on the barstool, trying not to think too hard about _after_. “Lot of pressure to put on a guy for a first date, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re up for the challenge.” Sara’s eyes are shining, and Leonard snaps out of it, finding some of his confidence.

“I’m up for whatever you are, Canary.” He raises his eyebrows. “Leave the planning to me. I’ll make sure we both have a good time.”

He thinks on it for the rest of the night, and he’s still pondering when he gets home. He’s already hung his jacket before he realizes Mick is waiting up for him again.

“So, you ask her out yet?”

Leonard sighs and turns to face his roommate. “How old are you, twelve?”

Mick shrugs, unperturbed. “At least I didn't ask when you're gonna get laid.”

Len smirks. “I guess that is an improvement.” He's going to tell him - he'd figure it out anyway - but that doesn't mean he has to tell him right away. He moves into the kitchen, taking out what he needs for a sandwich, and he hears Mick come in behind him. Automatically, he grabs a second plate.

“So?” Mick asks. Leonard grins down at the bread as he puts together the sandwiches.

“So what?” He replies when he's controlled his expression.

“Come on, boss. I gave you a hand, and you know it. I had your back tonight, too.”

Turning around, Len hands Mick a sandwich with exactly the right amount of mayo and meat. Mick takes a bite, chewing while he waits for Leonard to answer.

“Fine,” Len says, finally. He can get Mick’s advice, anyway, see if what he’s thinking of sounds good. “You’re right. I’m taking her out on Sunday. She wants something active, and you saw how good she was in that fight. It gave me a few ideas.”

Mick grins. “You’re so far gone.”

“Shut up.” Leonard takes a bite of his sandwich and walks around Mick, toward the couch. “You wanna hear my ideas or not?”


	6. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Leonard go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I am so very sorry for the criminally long delay between last update and this one. I’ve finished my book, and it’s scheduled to publish on Tuesday, so all the hard work is done (except marketing, which, you know… sucks. but it doesn’t keep me from my other projects).
> 
> Second, this fic had hints of more adult themes from the first chapter, but I’d thought Sara and Len were going to behave. They’re not going to behave. I can change this story to mature, or I can keep it teen and have the adult activities take place in a separate story in the same ‘verse. If anyone reading has a preference, please let me know!
> 
> And finally, thank you so much for your patience, kudos, and comments!
> 
> CW: Paintball (guns)

He discards the roller skating idea almost immediately; it would be fun, maybe, but he doesn’t think it’d be much of a challenge. Similarly, he figures miniature golf would be a little too easy. Besides, it isn’t really a _physical_ activity, and there’s no way Leonard is going to fail to meet her only request.

Especially when the request so heavily implied that he’ll benefit quite thoroughly if he fulfills it.

He goes through bowling and wrestling, swimming and racing. They either offer too little interaction, too little challenge, or too many logistical difficulties.

In the end, Mick is the one who helps him decide. He’s torn between driving out of town for some off-road biking or heading over to a local paintball field when Mick reminds Leonard of the last time he was on a bike.

“You’re the one who wanted to do that while it was icy out,” Leonard protests. “So yeah, I hit a patch of ice. Could’ve been worse.” He pauses, ignoring Mick’s knowing look. “Alright, paintball it is,” he says finally.

“Good choice, Captain Cold.” Mick, in his turn, ignores Leonard’s glare.

The next few days pass surprisingly quickly, and before he knows it, Sara’s knocking at the door of the apartment.

“Aww, she’s picking you up? How sweet.”

“Shut up, Mick,” he shoots back, opening the door. He gives Sara a pained smile - judging by the amusement on her face, she’s heard Mick’s teasing - and shuts the door on his roommate’s laughter. “You find the apartment okay?” he asks, shoving his wallet and keys into his pockets.

“Yeah. It’s only like a block from my place.” She looks at him as they leave the building. “So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He leads them to the small parking lot in back - it’s not big enough, really, and he knows his parking spot will be gone the second they leave, but she’s watching him with eyes that sparkle in challenge, and it’ll be more than worth it - but he hesitates rather than moving to his passenger door as he’d planned.

Opening the door for her would be stuffy or make him seem old, right? But what if it’s rude for him not to at least offer? What if she doesn’t even feel comfortable riding with him - taking their own cars is a thing women do sometimes, he thinks - and he’s left standing there with the door open like an idiot and--

“Did you forget which car is yours?” Sara’s visibly trying to restrain laughter, and it knocks him out of whatever funk he’s in.

It’s _Sara_ he’s with. She’s the one who’s made every Thursday night worth a damn, the one who lets him relax and just _be_ when he should be on guard. He lets out a breath and smirks at her.

“No,” he drawls. “I was just giving you a tour of the parking lot.” At her snort, he strides over to the passenger door and opens it, then goes around to his side of the car before she can get in. It lets him help but doesn’t force her hand.

He’s already pulling out of the lot when she speaks again, in a light tone. “Just so you know, my dad’s a cop, so if you were planning on kidnapping me, you might wanna rethink that.”

He glances at her, and she’s smiling at him. He’s not sure exactly what’s different about her, but she’s even more gorgeous than usual, and he has to force his attention back to the road after he’s sure she’s not actually worried. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, have you always lived around here?” she asks. The conversation flows easily enough from there, with just a couple of rough patches when she asks about his family and when he asks how she knows Oliver, since it’s always seemed like more than just an employee/employer relationship.

She doesn’t care that his father’s a criminal, and he doesn’t give a damn that she screwed her sister’s boyfriend years ago. Neither of these things determine who they are now, in this moment. Sure, they contribute, but who the hell doesn’t have baggage?

When they’re nearly there, he tells Sara to close her eyes. Before complying, she narrows them at him.

“This better be good, Captain Cold.”

“Just shut them, Canary.”

She does, and he’s grinning as he pulls into the parking lot of the paintball field, parking near the little shack where they’ll check in and get their supplies.

“Okay, you can open them.”

She opens her eyes and immediately blinks before a grin spreads across her face.

“Paintball? Seriously?”

Her words might be skeptical, but her voice sounds… Pleased. Excited. Interested.

He swallows, pushing away thoughts of other situations in which he’d like to hear her use that voice. This situation is good on its own.

His mental detour, though, does draw his attention to her low-cut, nearly sleeveless shirt. He unbuckles and reaches into the back seat, coming up with a sweatshirt he keeps in the car in case he gets cold.

“Seriously. You might want to wear this. Skin and paintball guns don’t always mix.”

She laughs and puts on the sweatshirt. “I know. Last time I came here, I ended up covered in welts.”

He pauses with his hand ready to open the door. He’s torn. On the one hand, some ridiculous part of his body is already possessive of her, and seeing her in his clothing is making it hard to concentrate. On the other hand, he feels a twinge of disappointment. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yeah,” she says, “but just the once, and I was distracted. Which is probably why I ended up getting shot so many times.” Her eyes are dancing at him, and she jerks her head toward the shack. “We going in or not? I’m ready to kick your ass.”

The disappointment is gone, chased away by her obvious excitement. “How do you know I’m not excellent at this?” He gets out of the car and waits for Sara before they walk to the shack.

“I’m sure you are,” she says. “You haven’t seen me shoot, though.”

And he hadn’t. He misses it the first time he gets shot, too; she gets him in the shoulder when he is looking for her in entirely the wrong place. He’s had plenty of practice here, yet he barely manages to win the first round.

Sara wins the second.

“Dad started taking me to the shooting range when I started working at the bar,” she explains, laughing. They’re both breathing heavily, and he’s tempted to take off his long, thick shirt, but this place keeps the tension in the guns way too high. “Ollie’s actually the one who got me started on the martial arts.”

He hadn’t been sure she’d studied any sort of martial art, but that explained her prowess in dealing with bar fights.

She has a splatter of green paint on her cheek from where it ricocheted off a building she hid behind, and he hesitates for only a moment before reaching out and wiping it away with his thumb. The mood thickens immediately, and he stills. Her cheeks are already flushed, and he can see the rise and fall of her chest under his sweater. Her eyes are locked on his, and as he leans in, they get a glimmer that makes him pause.

Sara takes a shuffling step toward him, putting her so close that one of her feet is between his. She’s looking up at him, and he can feel her breath on his skin. She leans up and in, dodging his lips at the last second so that her mouth is instead near his ear.

“You are _not_ distracting me while we’re tied.” It’s not the whisper he was expecting, but her voice is dripping with promise, and his free hand moves to her waist, despite the fact that she’s dropped back down to her normal height and pulled back to where she can look into his eyes again.

“Tiebreaker?” His voice is lower than he’d told it to be, but her eyes flash before she grins.

“Wanna make it interesting?” There’s that challenge in her voice again. “Winner gets to choose our next activity.”

He has to swallow before he can respond. “Deal.”

She whirls away and runs behind cover, signaling the start of their next round. She almost has him a few times, but he’s finally the one who lands the “fatal” shot. He’s not sure how she gets from where she is as quickly as she does, but before he can fully lower his gun, she’s pressing him back against a rickety wooden obstacle and pressing her lips to his.

He’s surprised he manages not to drop the borrowed weapon, especially when her hand moves behind his neck, pulling him closer. She kisses with a passion he’s only seen hints of before today, and by the time she pulls away, he’s nearly forgotten where they are.

“I know you get to choose the activity,” she says, voice rough, “but I just had to do that first.”

“Alright.”

_You really are smooth, Snart._

Her slow smile says she doesn’t mind. “So, what are we doing next?”

“I actually had one more activity planned here.”

She raises an eyebrow. “What else is there to do at a paintball place besides paintball?”

Five minutes later, they’re wearing foam fingers saturated in different colored paints, and Leonard runs as fast as he can, but Sara catches him easily, leaping onto his back and smacking him in the side of the head with blue paint from her foam finger.

“I win!” she says, hopping down and grinning at him when he turns toward her.

He may be a little better than her at ranged war play, but he can recognize when he’s been bested, and he’s not going to win in this version of hand-to-hand combat. What he can do, though, is the same thing Sara did after _she_ lost.

And he does. He kisses her, slowly, thoroughly, one hand tangled in her hair, the other smearing green paint over the back of his sweater. When they pull apart, they’re both a blue-green mess, and their fingers are almost out of paint.

“I think it’s time to get out of here,” Sara says. He agrees.

The ride back to his apartment, each of them sitting on towels he’d brought to protect his seats, is filled with as much conversation as the ride prior. When, miraculously, Leonard pulls into an empty parking spot in his apartment’s lot, Sara unbuckles and turns to look at him.

“So, what’s next? Anything else planned?”

It isn’t what he expected her to ask, not that he’s sure what he _had_ expected. “You can come up for dinner. Mick’s probably gonna be an ass, though.”

“I don’t have a roommate.” She’s watching him, but Leonard’s not sure whether she’s bragging or-- “Come help me wash this paint off?”


	7. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len and Sara go back to her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's still teen, but I wouldn't recommend reading it at work.
> 
> Brief discussion of childhood abuse in this chapter.

Leonard has to swallow before he can answer. The only way she's getting all that paint off is in the shower. And she's asking him to join her? 

“I suppose that's fair. I got the paint on you in the first place.” He's proud of the fact that his voice is almost his normal, even drawl. 

She smirks at him. “Exactly. Come on.”

They get out of the car, and she leads him down the street, stopping at an apartment complex a little nicer than his. In the elevator, she leans against him, wrapping one hand around his arm and using the other to stroke up and down, slowly tracing the material of his sleeve. 

He's momentarily at a loss. He doesn't really date. He has sex, sure, but those are just one night, one encounter, neither partner with any illusions that they're participating in more than a pleasurable release. With them, he doesn't need to know what to say. He doesn't need to touch or be touched more than necessary. 

As a result, Sara isn't the first person to ever call him cold, but he knows she doesn't mean it in that way, so he never considered that it would even bother him. He certainly doesn't feel  _ cold _ at the moment, under what should be a perfectly innocent touch. She looks up at him, her eyes a shade darker than usual, and he's suddenly very aware of the fact that it's been months since he's been with anyone at all. 

“You okay?” she asks as the elevator chimes their stop. 

He has several seconds to decide how to word his answer; she leads him out of the elevator and stops by a door several yards away. When she turns to face him, eyebrows raised in a way that shouldn’t make him want her even  _ more _ , he figures he can answer with actions better than with words.

He’s always been better at things that don’t need words.

He steps toward her, and she tilts her head up, keeping her eyes locked on his as she rests against the wall beside her door. He places his palms flat on the wall on either side of her head, not close enough to feel threatening, his movements slow and deliberate. He sees her breathing change, become shallower as her mouth opens ever so slightly. 

He leans forward, nose grazing hers, and their mouths are millimeters apart for the length of a heartbeat before the soft skin makes contact.

He pours himself into the kiss, tasting, caressing, using lips and tongue to show exactly how he feels. His palms are still firmly against the wall, keeping him anchored as she returns the kiss, her passion less restrained than his. Her hands find their way under his shirt, and it’s the heat radiating against his skin that brings him back to his senses, reminds him they’re still in the hallway outside her apartment.

“Does that answer your question?” he asks, his face still just inches from hers. He doesn’t say he doesn’t remember exactly what the question was anymore. 

She trails her hands down his back, hooking her fingers through his belt loops and pulling his hips forward, letting her feel just how much the kiss - and the thought of what might come  _ after _ the kiss - has affected him. “Yeah, I think it does.”

He smiles down at her and hesitantly lifts one hand, running it over her paint-encrusted hair. “Maybe we really should clean up before this gets any harder to get out.”

She smirks at him. “I’ll just need to get very wet. Think you can manage that?” He isn’t sure of his expression at her words, but she snorts and gently pushes him away, grabs her keys, and opens her door. 

He follows her inside, watching as she tosses her keys on a table by the door. The apartment is small, but it’s cozy. The kitchen is just off the entryway, and it opens into a living room with an oversized sofa and a TV, with little room leftover for walking. There are just two doors leading out of the living room, both open, one to a bathroom and one to a bedroom.

Sara makes her way into the kitchen. “Want anything to drink? Water? Beer? I don’t keep that shitty beer from the bar here. Sorry about that.” Her eyes are shining in amusement, and he chuckles.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

She gets herself a glass of water, downing it without stopping for air, tipping her head back in that way some people can do, that way that shows off their muscles and the way their throat works as they swallow and  _ damn _ , he should’ve gotten a water after all.

He leans against the little island that separates the kitchen from the living room; he doesn’t want to get any paint on her couch, and he left his old towels in the car. Sara sets the glass in the sink and comes around to where he’s standing. She presses against the front of him, her hands resting on the countertop behind him, and her eyes telegraph want and amusement, and he momentarily tries to push the resulting, inappropriate thoughts out of his head.

Then he realizes he doesn’t need to. They’re here, like  _ this _ , and this is happening. The woman he’s admired so long, who he’s wanted since he first saw her, who makes his life better one Thursday night at a time…

She’s here. Or more accurately,  _ he’s _ here in her apartment, and she’s taking his bottom lip between her teeth, so gently, then pressing her lips to his, and there’s nowhere their bodies aren’t touching, and oh fuck this is really happening.

By the time she pulls back, it feels like his world has been pulled apart and put back together again. She grins at him.

“If I’d known we worked together this well, I’d have asked you out forever ago instead of waiting on you.”

“I got around to it eventually,” he protests halfheartedly. 

She’s right. They should’ve started doing this a long time ago.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding on to the counter, his hands next to hers, until she shifts, running her fingers down his arms before taking hold of his wrists and gently dislodging his grip. She watches her hands, watches his twitch and then still, and she looks up at him.

“You’re not really one for initiating touch, are you?” 

He wants to argue - he had initiated the kiss in the hall, after all - but there’s this soft look in her eyes like she already suspects why he holds back, and she’s always been a good listener. “Growing up,” he starts, and his eyes drop to their hands, “touch wasn’t often a good thing. Mom was gone, and Dad--” His jaw clenches. “Let’s just say he wasn’t very nice when he was drunk or angry, and he was always drunk or angry.”

“Len…” Sara whispers, and he drags his eyes to hers. They aren’t pitying. He sees anger and hurt, like  _ she _ was the one who’d had to deal with it firsthand. She isn’t crying, but there’s moisture in them, like she wants to.

_ Way to kill the mood, Snart. _

Then again, she’s the one who asked. And she hasn’t pulled away, is holding his wrists tighter, if anything. She seems to realize this and loosens her grip before leaning forward to kiss him again.

He’s not sure he’s ever been kissed in a way that felt protective, but he sure as hell can’t think of any other description for the way her lips move against his, the way she’s almost cradling his wrists at her hips, the way she seems to be trying to make it better and promise it won’t happen again.

It helps. It’s not long before all thoughts of his father have been pushed aside and he’s fully invested in the kiss. He moves his lips aside to kiss along her jaw, only to pull back, making a face.

“Paint,” he says in answer to her quizzical look.

She laughs once and moves her hands to the bottom of his shirt. “Well, let’s get out of these clothes so we can get in the shower.”

He kisses her again, trying to show his enthusiastic support of that idea, but only a couple seconds pass before she pulls back.

“Wait,” she says. “Lemme take a picture of us first, for Felicity. That'll get her to stop with the blind dates.”

He clears his throat so he can handle words. “I see. You're just using me to deal with the unwanted attention.” 

“You got it.” She squeezes his hand, then grabs her phone and holds it out in front of them, screen pointed in their direction. He hadn't realized quite how covered in paint he is, but it looks like the two of them have been rolling in it. He has a blue handprint on his cheek, and it’s pretty easy to see what they’ve been doing. “Smile.” 

He doesn't manage a real smile, but he does pull off a smirk, and she laughs while taking the picture. She quickly texts it to Felicity, then shuts down the phone and tosses it on the couch. “Now, where were we?” 


	8. Getting Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Leonard get cleaned up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this whole chapter is foreplay. I make no apologies ;)
> 
> Note the rating change. NSFW

_“Now, where were we?”_

“I think we were here.” Leonard tugs her shirt up and over her head in one swift motion, Sara cooperating immediately.

She's gorgeous. She's wearing a white sports bra, and it emphasizes the toned muscles of her abdomen, the slight tan she couldn't have gotten in the bar, and the spark in her eyes as his gaze makes its way back to her face.

“My turn,” she says, pulling his shirt off, pressing teasingly against him as she maneuvers it over his arms. She looks with her hands as much as her eyes, running careful fingers across muscle and over scars. She doesn't ask about them, just caresses them, treats them as a part of him.

Her exploration is torture, and his jeans are much too tight. They seem to be trading off, though, so he does what he thinks will get him out of his own jeans fastest without breaking the unstated rules: he reaches forward and unbuttons Sara's pants. She increases the pressure of her fingers against his skin, and he takes that as encouragement, easing her jeans over her hips and letting them drop to the floor.

Her fingers trail down his torso before hooking into his pants and using him for balance as she steps out of hers, managing to toe her shoes and socks off with them.

His eyes are everywhere. He's never bought into the notion of a physical ideal, but there's absolutely nothing he would change about Sara. Her whole body is perfect, power contained in a small package, and it's just so _her_ that it feels like he's always known she would look like this.

His assessment is interrupted by her hands at the buttons of his jeans. He can feel her watching him, and he watches as she unzips his jeans much too slowly. Her hand grazes his erection through his boxers, and that alone is enough that he has to bite back a groan.

“I need to get my boots off before the pants can go,” Leonard says as he the fact occurs to him.

“You should probably get them off, then.” Sara's looking at him like it's the simplest thing in the world for Leonard to pull far enough away from her to undo his boots.

It takes way too long for him to get them off though, apparently, because he straightens just in time to see her shimmy out of her underwear, kicking it over to join the bra he'd missed coming off. Sara is in front of him, completely naked, wearing nothing but paint and a grin that carries more than a little challenge.

“I'm gonna go start the shower,” she says, stepping forward and working his jeans off him before stepping back again, looking him up and down with satisfaction. “You should lose the underwear.”

He complies as she turns around, and he follows her to the bathroom, getting there as she turns on the water.

“It'll take just a minute to warm up.” She turns toward him, and her eyes flicker downward before she raises her eyebrows appreciatively.

Leonard feels himself smirking, and he reaches for Sara without overthinking it, taking her hips and pulling her close enough for another kiss. Her hands comes up to rest on his chest, and it’s too much contact and not nearly enough. Before he can pull her closer, though, she breaks the kiss.

“Shower’s probably ready,” she says.

“Right.”

_Eloquent._

She steps into the shower, and he takes a breath before he follows. If he doesn’t get it together, he’s gonna look like an idiot, and since he already knows he doesn’t want this to be just a one-time thing, he _really_ doesn’t want to look like an idiot.

When he moves the curtain aside to join her, she’s standing under the stream of water, green paint cascading down her back, caressing her curves before falling to the floor of the tub and swirling down the drain, splashes of blue paint chasing each other at sporadic intervals. He steps in behind her, wrapping his arms around her and ducking his head so it’s under the water’s spray, and the water at their feet turns mostly blue.

He doesn’t watch the water for long, though; the feel of Sara against him, nothing between them but drops of colored water, makes it impossible to focus on anything else. His hands are against her firm stomach, and when her ass pushes back against him, he muffles his moan against her bare shoulder.

He can’t keep his hands still, doesn’t want to. He skims them upward, caressing the undersides of her breasts before cupping them, running his thumbs over her taut nipples. He’s rewarded by Sara’s sound of pleasure, which makes him harder than he was already, and he inhales sharply when she presses into him again.

She spins in his hold, putting a little bit of space between them as she does, then reaches for something behind him.

“Shampoo,” she explains, holding up the bottle. “I don’t think this crap is coming out of my hair without it.”

“Let me,” he says, taking the bottle from her and pouring some of the shampoo in his hand. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but her eyes close in pleasure as he starts working it through her hair, the colored lather contrasting with the bits of soft blond hair that are already showing.

When she leans back into the spray, her hair washes clean, and he presses his lips gently to hers, feeling her smile before they deepen the kiss. With the paint off most of her face, Leonard again moves his lips from hers over to her jaw, kissing along her jawline to a spot just below her ear, a spot he’s admired watching her in the bar when she has her hair up. He sucks the moisture off the spot, and she grabs his hips and pulls him closer, her breasts are pressing against his chest, his erection pressing into her stomach, and he’s pretty sure this has to be the best feeling in the world.

Sara grips him tighter before pushing her hands between them. “You need this, too.” She’s grabbed the shampoo bottle again, and she quickly sets it aside before reaching up to lather it in his short hair, pressing her body against him harder than is probably required for the task.

He doesn’t exactly mind. His hands move to her waist for balance and because he wants them there, and she hums in approval as she massages his scalp. She moves to the back of his neck, then to the side of his face, carefully scrubbing the paint off him. He slides his hands down to cup her ass, and she chuckles.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to do that,” she says. “Okay, time to rinse.” They trade places, and he lets the water wash over him, closing his eyes to keep out the paint and soap. He jerks forward when a firm grip wraps around his erection without warning, and his eyes fly open to see her grinning at him.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Sara doesn’t sound the least bit repentant, and if he’s honest, he doesn’t object in the slightest. She pulls him down for a kiss, her hand finding a steady pace, moving up, down, up again as she plunges her tongue into his mouth.

She’s going to be the death of him.

He’s the one to pull away this time, and he spins her so she’s facing away from him again, bringing her back against him. He runs his hands down her arms, circling her wrists as he presses them gently but firmly against her hips in a silent request for her to keep them there. She tilts her head back against his shoulder, and he kisses her neck again before finding her lips.

He releases her wrists and turns his attention back to her breasts, stroking them, coming close to her nipples but never quite touching them until she makes a sound that’s almost a whimper.

“Oh god, Leonard,” she says then, on an exhale.

She leans against him while he continues his ministrations, and after a minute, one hand leaves her breasts to skim downward, tracing across her stomach and along her hips. He starts a leisurely pattern, his hand moving up and down over her damp skin, moving almost imperceptibly further inward at each stroke.

Sara makes an impatient noise and shifts, and despite the fact that he thinks she might be pulling away, he grins in satisfaction. The grin drops when she reaches back and between them, taking him in hand once more and imitating his pace. It doesn’t take long before he finds himself speeding up.

The water is running completely clear into the drain when he finally lets his hands slip between her legs, finding her slick from more than just the water.

“Sara,” he breathes.

Her almost strangled sound of encouragement gives him incentive to control his movements again, and he starts up another pattern, this one slow, controlled circles over her clit, his fingers dipping ever-so-slightly inside her every few strokes.

“If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m gonna kick your ass,” she threatens after a few minutes of this.

Leonard hides a laugh against her shoulder, but he adds a little pressure and speed to his movements, and he thrusts into her grip. “Here or the bed?”

“Condoms are in the bedroom,” she pants, and Leonard's never seen someone turn off a shower as quickly as Sara does then.


	9. I Feel Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard and Sara continue what they were doing in the shower. Afterward, they get an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult content continues until, “There’s a loud knock,” if you’re trying to skip it but still read the story. I'm fairly certain there's just an epilogue after this.

Sara tosses a towel at him, and he catches it easily. “So is this what you had in mind when you picked paintball for our date?" she asks, drying off with a towel of her own.

Leonard chuckles. "No, not exactly." He watches as she bends over, roughly toweling off her legs. “Can’t really say I object, though.”

They’re still damp - but no longer dripping - when Sara seems to have had enough with the practicality. Towel still clutched in one hand, she puts her hands on his shoulders and her mouth on his. Leonard’s hands move to her waist automatically, and he pulls her closer, soft skin and rough towel both rubbing against him and wreaking havoc on his senses.

When she tilts her hips against him _just so_ , the towels fall to the bathroom floor. Sara spins them around so he’s facing the door, then backs him out and into her bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Not that he’s sure it still qualifies as _only_ a kiss. He’s moved one hand back to Sara’s ass, tilting her forward so her clit is pressed against him, and the other hand has found its way back to her breast. One of her hands is keeping his face close to hers, refusing to let their mouths separate, and the other is scratching its way down his back, and the pleasure comes just shy of discomfort.

“Bed,” she orders, and he can see that her lips are swollen, her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are dark.

He gets on the bed. He’s not about to argue with that.

He doesn’t bother getting under the covers, and it takes less than a minute for her to grab protection from the drawer, set it near the pillow, and straddle him. His hands move to her hips as she bends down to kiss him, and she straightens with a gasp when he starts rocking her back and forth along his erection.

She’s wet, from the shower and from their activities, and the slick friction against him is--

“Fuck, Sara, you feel amazing.”

“This isn’t enough.” Sara keeps rocking against him as she grabs and opens the condom, lifting off him just long enough to slide it into place before sinking down on him in one smooth motion. “Mmm,” she says as he groans, “that’s what I needed.”

Leonard grunts his agreement and thrusts up into her as she presses into him. It takes a few seconds for them to find a rhythm, and he starts pulling her forward each time she’s fully seated, trying to give her more direct stimulation. Her eyes close and her head tilts back, and if this was the only thing he ever saw again, he could still die happy.

Her golden hair brushes over her shoulders, her breasts move just enough that he wants to hold them again, and he has a fantastic view of where they’re joined together. She seems close, but he feels closer, and he moves his right hand so he can press circles into her clit with his thumb.

It doesn’t take long before her even rhythm is abandoned, and she’s bouncing erratically as he thrusts up to meet her. She’s making noises that could be words but are mostly gibberish, and then she’s clenching around him and even if he wanted to last longer, it was never going to happen, not this time, and he follows her over the edge.

She collapses forward against him, her hands on his chest, and nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck. He hesitates only a moment before wrapping his around around her and closing his eyes.

“That was great,” she says, her lips buzzing against his skin.

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement.

The comfortable silence is broken by a loud knock and muffled, feminine shouting from the front door, and Leonard jumps.

“Shit,” Sara curses. She kisses him once, hard, then climbs off him and out of bed, grabbing a robe from behind her bedroom door and moving to where the loud knocking continues.

Leonard gets up and cleans up as best he can when he hears the front door open; he can’t exactly get to the bathroom without risking a show.

“What’s wrong, Felicity?” Sara sounds exasperated, but there’s still a touch of fondness in her tone. Leonard shuts the bedroom door most of the way, just enough to block line of sight if they go into the living room, but not enough to shut out sound.

“‘What’s wrong’? Seriously?” Felicity sounds _way_ more exasperated than Sara. “You text me a picture of a random guy in your apartment - with _no_ context, I might add - and then you turn off your phone. How do I know that’s not a coded cry for help?”

“Everything’s fine, Felicity. And what were you gonna do if you got here and something was wrong?”

Leonard can hear the smile in Sara’s voice.

“I’ve got my spare key and my pepper spray.” Felicity seems to be calming down, and she sounds confident now.

“It was Leonard,” Sara says. “I’ve told you about him, I’m sure. That cute guy from the bar.”

“You brought home a guy from the bar? That doesn’t make it any better and _oh my god_ are those his clothes on the floor? He’s still here?!?”

Sara laughs, and Leonard finds himself chuckling.

“He’s still here,” she answers, “and he can probably hear everything we’re saying. We were on a date. I didn’t just bring home some random guy. Come on, you know me better than that.” There’s a pause, and he can hear her smirk when she continues. “I wouldn’t have sent a picture if it was just some random guy.”

“That’s what Oliver said,” Felicity mumbles. “But still, I was worried. I mean, I know you can handle yourself and all, but still, strange guy is here and then you’re totally incommunicado. So is he gonna come out? Thanks to your picture and the clothes, I already know he came in. In your apartment I mean, not in you _I did not just say that_.”

Leonard tries to muffle his laughter while looking for something to use to cover up, but unless he wants to wrap up in the comforter or sheets, he’s stuck.

“I’ll go get him.” Sara opens the door a few seconds later, their clothing in hand, and shuts the door tightly behind her. “Sorry about that. You up for meeting unofficial family? You don’t have to,” she adds quickly, handing him his clothes. “I know I told her I was coming to get you, but I can tell her to leave.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He’s a little surprised to realize he means it. She’s already familiar with his unofficial family, after all. “After I get my clothes on, though. Thanks.”

She grins, and they both start getting dressed. Watching Sara get dressed is, for some reason, almost as appealing as helping her get undressed. It’s something about the way she moves, without waste. He’s seen her fidget, seen her try to get rid of excess energy, but when she’s actually actively doing something, there’s a purpose to it, an intention that he finds sexy as hell.

Even right after a mind-blowing orgasm.

When they’re both clothed, she takes his hand and leads him out to the living room. Felicity, standing in front of Sara’s couch with her arms crossed, doesn’t look how he’d expected her to. From what he’s heard about her, and from what he overheard from the bedroom, he was picturing a cheerleader type.

Instead, he’s met with sexy librarian.

“Leonard, this is Felicity. Felicity, Leonard.” Sara plops down on the couch, and Leonard stands awkwardly, facing the woman who still has her arms crossed.

“So, you’re the reason Sara scared me half to death.” Felicity is glaring, but there’s a softness to it, something that tells Leonard she’s not actually upset with him, just feeling protective of her friend.

“Apparently,” he says, relaxing enough to join Sara on the couch, leaving a space open on her other side if Felicity wants to sit. “And you are…”

“I’m doing her boss. _Dating!_ Dating her boss.” Felicity collapses next to Sara on the couch and hides her face in her hands. “Sara, you know better than to let me talk when I’m nervous.”

“I won’t bite,” Leonard says, and he smirks at Sara when she waggles her eyebrows at him as if she might enjoy it if he _did_ bite. Felicity catches the tail end of the exchange and huffs, but some of the nervous tension finally leaves.

“You know,” Sara says to Felicity, “if you call him your fiancé, you’ll stop making that mistake.”

“I know,” she says, looking down at the ring on her left hand, “but we’re not really talking about it at work yet, and it’s hard to switch back and forth.” Felicity looks over at Leonard. “I promise I’m not always this much of a dork. I was just worried.”

“You’re _always_ this much of a dork,” Sara says before he can respond. “We love you anyway.”

The conversation is surprisingly easy after that. If he’d wondered at one time why Sara was so close to her boss’s fiancé, he doesn’t wonder by the time he announces he’s heading home. He would’ve stayed, but he gets the feeling Felicity isn’t going to leave before he does.

“I’ll see you soon,” he tells Sara as she walks him to the door.

She leans forward and gives him a kiss. “You don’t have to wait until Thursday, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he drawls, and he can tell by her smirk that she knows she’ll see him before Thursday this week.

Felicity doesn’t even wait for him to shut the door all the way before she announces her opinion to Sara, and it’s the last thing Leonard hears before he leaves: “I like him.”


	10. When I'm with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard goes to the bar the first day he knows he'll see Sara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet epilogue.
> 
> Thank you so much for your lovely feedback and for your patience with my much-too-long delay!

Leonard makes it until Tuesday before he goes by the bar, but he’s pretty sure Sara’s off on Mondays, anyway. Somehow, he doesn’t have Sara’s number yet and plans to get it, so of course he forgets his phone at home.

She’s watching the door when he walks in - was she waiting for him? - and she smiles, her face lighting up before she schools her expression into something a little more serious. She finishes up with the patron she’s helping while Len takes his seat, then she joins him, putting a Jack and coke in front of him.

“Thanks,” he says, wrapping his hand around the sturdy glass.

“Don’t mention it.” Her eyes are warm and focused entirely on him, and he suddenly wishes they were anywhere but here, anywhere he wouldn’t have to fight this unfamiliar desire to take her in his arms. She seems to see it, her lips pulling up to one side before she continues. “You should probably have my number so we can get together when I’m not at work.”

“I forgot my phone,” Leonard says, not bothering to add that he didn’t go back to get it because he wanted to see her, and that would’ve delayed his arrival.

“Okay, here.” She grabs her phone from where it was hidden under the bar, and she messes with it for a few seconds before handing it to him.

She’s created a contact for him to add his number, and he’s not listed as Leonard. He’s not even listed as Captain Cold.

“‘Boyfriend’?” he asks, looking up at her.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.” Sara wrinkles her nose. “I know it’s kinda cheesy to have you in there like that, but maybe it’s also my way of asking if it’s okay to call you my boyfriend.”

“I suppose that’s alright,” he drawls, but he feels a grin tugging at his lips. They’ve been on one date - one fantastic date with an even better ending - and she already wants to be with him, officially, and he wants to be with her, and it should terrify him, but somehow…

It’s Sara. It’s right.

She arches an eyebrow at him and pulls herself up on the lower part of the bar, getting close enough to him that it’s easy to lean in to steal a kiss, one she deepens far past what he’d intended to initiate in public.

He’s dimly aware of a playful howl in the background and a vaguely disapproving voice asking Jefferson to practice proper decorum. When he pulls back, Sara smirks at him before lowering herself back to the floor. 

“I should probably at least  _ look _ like I’m working,” she says. “Ollie’s gonna replace me as manager if I don’t do my job.” She smirks. “He’ll at least threaten to. Felicity won’t actually let him.”

She turns away and gets a couple refills while Leonard nurses his drink. He sits there, on his bar stool in the corner, his jacket in the seat next to him, and he feels…

He doesn’t think it’s love, not yet, though he wouldn’t swear on that. It’s contentment. It’s a feeling of rightness, of peace. It’s the knowledge that Sara has joined Mick and Lisa in the tiny group of people in this world he gives a damn about. It’s trust and security and all the things he never thought he’d have in a relationship.

And he has them with her, and they’re only just getting started.

There’s another brawl that night - Legends really should stop attracting folks who are itching for a fight - but it only reinforces his feelings of rightness when he and Sara work together seamlessly to prevent any permanent damage to either the bar or the people involved.

It helps even more when, afterward, she rolls her eyes at his satisfied smirk and calls him her hero, only a trace of sarcasm in her tone, before thanking him with a kiss.

“Your sister called,” Mick says when he walks in the door a few hours later. “Says she’ll be joining us at Legends on Thursday. Oh, and she says ‘Captain Cold’ is even better than ‘Lenny.’”

Leonard closes his eyes. His girlfriend and his sister are going to meet. They’re going to tease him for the rest of his life, he’s sure of it. He can already see them grinning at him, and his lips twitch involuntarily before he responds to Mick: “Fuck.”

His roommate, of course, breaks into laughter, and Len smiles despite himself.

Life is good.


End file.
